


5 Times Phil Feeds Skye | Daisy (And One Time She Feeds Him)

by Persiflage



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Canon Disabled Character, Chocolate, Comfort Food, Cooking, Coulson's Robot Hand, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Grilled Cheese, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Minor Character Death, Missing Scenes, Older Man/Younger Woman, POV Phil Coulson, POV Skye | Daisy Johnson, Post 3:10 Written Post 3:09, Skoulson Sex Cabin, Skye | Daisy Johnson's Superpowers, Slow Build, Soup, Speculation, This Will Get Jossed Tonight, mentions of Coulson/Rosalind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 16:35:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5382347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The care and feeding of your superheroine and her lovely little forest animal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Times Phil Feeds Skye | Daisy (And One Time She Feeds Him)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RowboatCop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/gifts), [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts), [BrilliantlyHorrid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/gifts), [Skyepilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/gifts), [notcaycepollard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcaycepollard/gifts).



> A bunch of missing scenes set during 1:20, 1:21, 2:05, 3:02, and post-3:10 speculative scenes. Glad to have got this out before it gets totally jossed by tonight's episode!

**[One]**

"Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?" Coulson asks, the phone in his hand. He's all ready to order room service for her, and she feels like crying at that gesture of kindness, but she can't weep in front of him – he'll think she doesn't appreciate the rescue, or something, if she starts crying. She presses her lips together, shakes her head, then gestures to the ensuite. He nods, his eyes soft and worried, and she stumbles on still-shaky legs across the room. She can't believe they aren't dead – that drop from the Bus in Lola, or the fact that if Coulson hadn't grabbed her hand in time, or the fact that Mike had deliberately mis-aimed when firing on them – any one of those things could've resulted in their deaths today. 

She'd like to take a shower but she doesn't have a change of clothes here – and she doesn't see any sense in showering to get rid of the smell of Ward's cologne clinging to her if she has to put back on the clothes that are also still smelling of him. She fights back nausea, then turns on the cold tap of the little handwash basin and sluices water over her face a handful of times until she feels her skin turning numb.

She and Coulson are holed up in a hotel until Trip and FitzSimmons can come and collect them, and she's glad of the respite, the chance to catch her breath and let the adrenaline of the day wash away.

She finishes drying her face, hangs up the towel, then steps out into the room. Coulson's sitting on the bed nearest the window, his shoes on the floor, and his tie slacked a little, and she can't prevent a smile from curling the corners of her mouth at the sight of him.

"How are you doing?" he asks, his voice gentle, and his eyes still soft and worried.

"Getting there," she tells him. "I was going to take a shower but I don't have any clothes to change into."

He swallows then says, rather diffidently, she thinks, "There's a little boutique downstairs, I noticed it on the way through the lobby. I could go and see if they've got anything for you to wear, if you'd rather stay here?"

She stares at him, wide-eyed in disbelief. "You'd do that for me?"

His brow furrows. "Of course," he says simply, and Skye can't help herself, she starts to weep, and he scrambles off the bed and comes to stand in front of her. She can tell he's hesitating about touching her, but she looks at him, and he quickly slides his arms around her and pulls her body into his, holding her tightly. His right hand slides up to the back of her neck, tangling in her hair, and he murmurs soothingly in her ear telling her she's safe; telling her that no one's going to hurt her while she's with him; telling her she's been very brave, clever, and resourceful. All she can do is cling to him as she sobs into the side of his neck, and it occurs to her that she's ruining a perfectly good shirt, but he doesn't seem to mind.

She's just about calmed down when there's a loud knock on the door, and she can't help being startled by the sudden loud noise.

"It's okay, Skye," he tells her gently. "It's just Room Service." He guides her to the bed he'd been sitting on, which is furthest from the door, and she sits down, then he goes to the door.

"Here," he says, setting the tray down on the nightstand. "Hot sweet tea is the best thing for you right now." He pours her a cup, adding a spot of milk, and plenty of sugar, before passing it over. 

She takes it, grateful he didn't pass her the saucer as well since her hands are shaking a bit. He pours himself a cup, then comes to sit beside her, his shoulder and arm brushing against hers.

"It's going to be okay," he tells her. "We'll find Ward and Garrett, and we'll find a way to get Mike back, too."

She nods, and takes a mouthful of tea, grateful that he thinks Mike's worth saving, in spite of everything.

After they finish their tea, he suggests she grab a nap, if she can. "Trip and the others won't be here just yet," he reminds her. "I'm going to pop downstairs to grab a couple of things, but I'll lock the door behind me, and put the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the handle."

"Thank you," she whispers. She'll admit that she feels like she could sleep.

He takes her cup from her, then gets to his feet. To her surprise he presses a kiss to her forehead, then helps her to settle on the bed.

"I'll be back as quick as I can," he says, his tone reassuring. "But don't open that door to anyone, okay?"

She nods, realising that her eyelids feel really heavy. He squeezes her shoulder, then moves away, and she barely registers the sound of the door closing as she sinks towards sleep.

AC-S-AC-S-AC

When Skye wakes Coulson's sitting on the bed opposite, his back propped against the wall, and his attention on his cell. He looks up when she stirs, and gives her a smile that seems to be equal parts exhausted and relieved.

"Feeling any better?" he asks, and she nods, even as her eyes alight on the nightstand between their beds. There's some bakery bags there, and she feels a sudden rush of hunger at the sight. Her face must give her away because he chuckles, slightly, and she looks back at him.

"What?" she asks, confused by the idea of Coulson chuckling.

"You look like you could eat that lot, bags and all," he says, his tone light and teasing.

"I am hungry," she admits, managing to smile at him.

"Help yourself," he says. "I've already eaten mine.

"How long was I asleep?" 

"A couple of hours. I've heard from Trip, they'll be here within the hour, so you've got time to shower, if you want to."

She frowns, but when she sits up, she sees a bag from the hotel boutique on the floor by the nightstand.

"I had to guess your size," he tells her, "and I may've erred on the side of caution, but there's a shirt and a sweater in there."

Skye can't help it, she launches herself off her bed, onto his, and throws her arms around him. "Thank you, Coulson. Thank you so much."

"It's just a shirt and sweater," he says, sounding a bit uncomfortable.

"It's not, though," she tells him earnestly, pulling back so she can look him in the eye. "It's the fact that you came after me, the fact that you care about me enough to risk your life to get me off the Bus."

He reaches up and brushes her hair off her cheek, and she bites her lip at the tender expression in his eyes. "I don't leave people behind," he says softly, "especially not my best hacker."

She manages a weak chuckle at that, then pulls back to sit on her heels. "I should shower and change," she says.

"And eat," he points out. 

"Yeah." She hesitates for a moment, then leans in and brushes her lips over his mouth. "Thank you, Phil."

He looks startled, but he doesn't object, either to the kiss or the use of his first name, and she climbs off the bed, scoops up the bag from the boutique, then heads into the ensuite. 

**[Two]**

When Coulson comes out to the poolside table where Skye's doing her best to make small talk with Trip, she can't help watching him closely as he raids the vending machine and gets a bar of chocolate.

When he offers her half the bar she feels strangely moved, but she does her best to cover it up, focuses on conversing in a normal fashion. It's the emotional day she's had, she decides – everything seems strangely magnified and the smallest gesture seems to take on a greater significance than it probably deserves. 

When Coulson says "Nice night", though, she thinks she might cry again, and her face must give that away because he gives her a concerned look, then asks tentatively if she wants to go inside.

She shakes her head. "To be honest, my room's making me feel a bit claustrophobic right now. And – " She stops, unsure whether to say what else is on her mind.

"And?" he asks softly.

"I don't want to be alone right now."

"What about if you had some company, in a bigger room?" he asks, and he sounds tentative.

"You mean – " She can't quite finish the question because she can't quite believe he's offering to share his room with her.

"My room's bigger – it's got two beds, you know. You don't have to, obviously, but – "

"I'd like that," she says quietly, and he nods, then gets to his feet, holding out his hand. She takes it and lets him pull her to her feet, then into his arms. 

"You will tell me if there's anything you need, won't you?" he asks, his hand sliding up into her hair. 

"Yeah."

"Good." He tightens his arms a bit more, then releases her, and they head inside. He lets her pick which bed she wants to sleep in, then offers her first use of the ensuite. Fifteen minutes later Skye's settled on the bed farthest from the door, and when Coulson comes out of the ensuite she's already half asleep. He brushes his fingertips lightly over her ankle as he passes, and she gives him a drowsy smile before closing her eyes and letting herself sink into sleep.

**[Three]**

By the time Coulson has finished telling Skye everything about his situation with carving the symbols – with several pauses for them both to mentally catch their breath – it's so late it's actually early the next day. Skye looks at the clock and is surprised to see it's six in the morning.

"You should go and join May," he tells her, seeing her checking the time.

"I think she'll let me off for one morning," she says. 

"Would you – " He stops and ducks his head to look at the floor. Skye covers his hand where it's resting between them on the couch.

"Would I what?" she asks.

"Would you like to have breakfast with me?"

She can tell he's not sure if she'll want to – that he's wondering if he's pushing the boundaries of their rapprochement by making such an offer.

"Yeah, Coulson, I'd like that."

He smiles at her, tired, but pleased, then gets to his feet and she gets up with him but stops him from moving away with a hand on his arm. 

"C'mere," she says, and slips her arms around him, and he sighs softly, wrapping his arms tightly around her. "It's gonna be okay, you know. We'll figure this out between us."

"I think if anyone can, you can," he says quietly, his mouth right by her ear. 

He pulls back a bit, and she can see a mixture of emotions flit across his face, one after another. Greatly daring she leans in and presses her lips to the corner of his mouth. He looks a bit startled by the gesture, but not displeased, she thinks, and she gives him a quick squeeze, then nods at the door. "Breakfast?"

"Yeah." He lets go of her, and she slips her hand into his, which elicits a smile, then she follows him along the corridor and downstairs to the kitchen. She brews them some coffee and makes some toast while he makes scrambled eggs. 

They sit side by side at the table, and eat in a companionable silence, and Skye can't help thinking what a contrast this is to the months of him keeping her at arms' length. 

"You should have told me about this before," she tells Coulson as they're finishing their coffee.

"I was scared to."

"And I get that, totally," she says, curling her fingers over his wrist. "Don't think I don't, but I'm a SHIELD agent, Coulson, you can't protect me from everything. And I've wasted months of work that I would've done differently if I'd known you were the one carving those symbols." 

"I'm sorry," he says softly, his blue eyes conveying his regret.

"Well I forgive you," she tells him, "but next time, don't try to shut me out, okay?" She rubs her thumb over his pulse point, and feels his pulse jump beneath her touch. She looks down at her hand curled around his wrist, and rubs the same spot again, then slides her fingers down to lace them with his.

"I won't," he says, and squeezes her hand. She leans in and rests her head on his shoulder.

"I've missed this," she says. "Being close to you, I mean. Not holding hands – that being a new thing." He chuckles quietly, and she lifts her head again to look at him. "What's funny?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing, really. I'm just happy we're talking properly again. Everything's a bit shitty – your dad's apparently a crazed murderer, while I'm just going crazy – but I feel a hundred times better now that you know what's going on."

"Which is why you were a bit of an idiot for not telling me before, AC." 

His face lights up at the use of his old nickname, and she can't help thinking that his joy makes him look a lot younger – not that he normally looks old, but after being up all night talking, he's definitely looking tired.

He opens his mouth to answer, then covers it in an attempt to stifle a yawn.

"You should go to bed," she tells him. "If you're spending entire nights carving, you can't be sleeping well."

"No," he agrees.

"Walk you to your bunk?" she suggests.

"I'd like that," he says, sounding shy.

She nods, and they make their way back upstairs, still holding hands, and Skye thinks this might be her new favourite thing.

**[Four]**

Once he's shown her where everything is, Coulson offers to make Skye some lunch while she unpacks her bag, and she accepts gratefully, not quite ready for him to leave her here on her own. She understands why he's brought her to The Retreat, understands that he's done it for her, to keep her safe – not just because she broke all the bones in her arms rather than hurt one of the team, but also to keep her away from whatever's going down with Hunter, Bobbi, and Mack. He hasn't said anything, but she knows there's something up – that the three of them are up to something, but he doesn't yet know what.

She comes back out of the bedroom to find him just laying the table, and he looks up to give her a smile, and despite the concern, she can see a softness in his eyes, and she smiles back, despite her own worry, which is churning her gut. She can't help feeling grateful that he is here for her, that he cares about her enough to come all this way with her, despite everything else that's going on.

He pulls out a chair for her, and she laughs softly, which earns her a raised eyebrow. "Such a gentleman," she says lightly.

He gives her a look, and she suddenly remembers 'The most beautiful thing I'd ever seen', and she blinks back the sting of tears because she refuses to cry in front of Coulson.

"Here you are." He sets a plate in front of her and she chuckles this time.

"Grilled cheese again? Is this, like, your signature dish, or something?"

He gives a little shrug as he sets down a second plate and sits across the corner from her. "Not really, but it's quick and easy, and very comforting. I often used to make this for my mom when she got home late from work."

That makes Skye's mouth dry up a bit – he doesn't talk about his mom a lot, but she knows that he was close to her after his father died. "Well I like it, so thanks."

He nods, and Skye reaches for her sandwich, only to realise that the casts on her arms and hands make everything more complicated.

"Let me help," Coulson says, and to her amazement, he scoots his chair closer, then picks up the sandwich and holds it out to her mouth. She has to swallow hard before she takes a careful bite.

"I could just take the casts off," she suggests once she's swallowed the first mouthful.

He gives a shrug. "I don't mind. Feeding you doesn't demean me, you know."

She nods, then takes another bite, and she realises that they're watching each other very intently. She can't say anything, though – if ever something was to happen between them, it'd have to be Coulson who initiated it because she doesn't dare risk what they've already got for the sake of having more, even if he does think she's the red corvette.

"Are you going to leave me your secret grilled cheese recipe before you go?" she asks, reaching for her glass of milk, which he picks up for her.

"Then it wouldn't be a _secret_ recipe, would it?" he asks teasingly.

She swallows two mouthfuls of milk, then gestures for him to move the glass away. "Guess you'll just have to come back often and make it for me, then," she jokes.

"I can do that," he says easily, and Skye raises an eyebrow at him.

"That's very sweet of you, AC," she says, "but you're the Director of SHIELD. You can't keep running out here to make me grilled cheese."

"Why not?" he asks. He's entirely serious, she realises, and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to calm herself down.

"Because it wouldn't be practical." He opens his mouth – probably intending to offer some sort of rebuttal – but she lifts her hand and he closes his mouth again. "Seriously, Coulson, I appreciate the offer, but there's enough for you to do at the Playground without you taking several hours out to fly here and back just to make me grilled cheese.

He gives her an intent look, and she figures he's trying to gauge how serious she is in her refusal, then he nods. "Okay." She can tell he's a little reluctant to agree with her, but that he also can see the sense in what she's saying. 

She nods back. She wishes he could come every day, or even better, that he could stay here with her, but she knows neither is possible, so she keeps her thoughts to herself, and focuses on drying as he washes up. It's awkward but she knows she has to manage this by herself because Coulson won't be here all the time. And when his cell rings and he tells her it's Mack, she knows she'll have to let him go now, rather than later.

**[Five]**

Coulson's got a little office onboard the Zephyr1, although no bedroom, but there is a couch in his office, so he helps Daisy up there to rest and recover after her heroic efforts at keeping the portal open. He doesn't know how she isn't comatose, given she'd said she thought she could keep the portal open for maybe a minute in order to send through a hard probe – after Fitz jumped through she held it open for more than ten minutes until they could drag him and Simmons back. He can only conclude she's much stronger and capable of far more than even she realises – which doesn't really surprise him since she's always been fairly self-deprecating, downplaying her skills and capabilities. Even so, it was too close a call, and he's definitely going to have to talk to Fitz later; for now, though, he just concentrates on looking after Daisy. 

"You can stay here until we get back," he tells her. "The flight's going to be several hours, again, so just concentrate on resting, okay?"

"Yeah, Phil," she says, her voice cracking with exhaustion. "Not really planning on doing very much for a bit."

He brushes a lock of her hair off her face, then curves his palm over her cheek, before leaning in to brush his lips over her temple. "I'm going to get you something to eat," he says. "I haven't forgotten you need to refuel after using your powers."

"Grilled cheese?" she asks hopefully.

"I'm not sure what food we've got onboard," he admits, "but if there's bread and cheese I will definitely make you a grilled cheese."

"Thanks." She closes her eyes briefly, and after a few moments, he pulls his hand from her face, although she catches hold of his wrist and presses her lips to his palm before he can move away completely.

"I'll be back in a bit," he promises, and she gives a weak nod. He pushes to his feet and heads downstairs to the gallery, hoping that there is bread and cheese available – he let Bobbi take care of providing supplies and he has no idea what she got. 

When he returns to his office with a stack of sandwiches – Bobbi hadn't got any cheese, so he'd made regular sandwiches instead – and some bags of chips, he finds Daisy fast asleep. He sets the tray of food and bottles of soda on his desk, then grabs one of the bottles for himself, and sits on the floor near Daisy's head. He leans his head back against the couch cushions and closes his eyes for a minute – only to fall asleep.

He wakes an indeterminate amount of time later to find Daisy's hand resting lightly against the side of his neck. Before he can even move, she strokes a fingertip over his skin, carefully scraping her nail downwards. He swallows deeply, aware that her gesture has made him instantly hard.

"Phil." Her voice is soft and raspy with sleep, and that, too, is sexy.

He turns his head to look at her, and her wide brown eyes are like pools. "Daisy."

She shifts on the couch, leaning over to press a kiss to his mouth, and he moans a little when she nips at his lower lip, encouraging him to open his mouth to her. He complies, and she slips her tongue inside, and he feels her fingers curl around the nape of his neck, her nails lightly scratching him again.

"Fuck, Daisy," he breathes, wondering if he's going to come in his pants.

Before they can take things further, however, Bobbi's voice comes over the intercom, startling both of them. They jerk apart, as if Bobbi had walked into the room and caught them making out; Coulson gets to his feet and moves awkwardly over to the desk to answer her. Afterwards he grabs the tray and carries it back to the couch.

"You need to eat," he reminds her gently, and as her stomach gurgles loudly a moment later, he knows she can't really argue with him. "There wasn't any cheese, sorry, but I've brought you ham, beef, and chicken sandwiches, as well as your favourite chips."

"Thank you." She sits up and takes the tray from him, and he grabs a nearby side table and moves it across for her to set the tray down.

"I'll go and say farewell to Professor Randolph."

"Then you'll come back?" she asks, her tone hopeful.

He nods, and she reaches out to grab his wrist, the left one, he notices with some surprise, and tugs his arm until he leans down so she can kiss him again, quick and hard, before she grabs one of the sandwiches.

AC-S-AC-S-AC

When Coulson returns to his office, Daisy's eaten the food he brought her, and is drinking a bottle of soda.

"How are you feeling now?" he asks, and she's about to reply when Bobbi comes in behind him, and she is momentarily wrong-footed.

"Still tired," she says honestly. "But more sleep will cure that."

He nods, and Daisy's surprised when Bobbi comes over to sit on the couch beside her. Daisy casts Coulson an enquiring look, and he launches into a discussion with Bobbi of Simmons' current state of health.

Daisy frowns, finishes her soda and sets the empty bottle back on the tray, then settles back in her corner of the couch, her arms folded across her chest. She doesn't know what's changed while he's been downstairs, but she can sense from his vibrations that something has, and that Bobbi's presence here is in no way accidental – Coulson deliberately brought her up here in order to avoid any further making-out with Daisy, even though she knows he desires her as much as she desires him. 

Once Bobbi's gone back downstairs again, she looks up at Coulson and asks, "What's wrong?"

He looks a bit startled, she notices, but also more than a bit guilty. He swallows, an absolute tell with him, then says, "Nothing's wrong."

"Don't bullshit me, Phil," she snaps, glaring up at him. "Before you went downstairs you were happily making out with me, now you're barely even looking at me." 

"Nothing's wrong," he repeats. "But we can't have that kind of relationship. It would undermine you in the eyes of your team."

"That's bullshit," Daisy says angrily, and gets to her feet so she won't have to look up at him. "You're just making excuses."

"Daisy." He glares at her, but she glares right back. "I'm still the Director."

"And I'm a team leader," she says, "or does the fact that my team only exists in potential make me less of a team leader?"

He frowns. "Of course not."

"Then I fail to see the problem here. You got rid of levels, and I'm a team leader, so in what way would it be inappropriate for us to have an intimate relationship?"

"I'd feel like I was taking advantage of you," he says.

She rolls her eyes. "I'd like to see you try, Director."

"Are you done?" he asks angrily.

"Yes." She stalks out of his office and heads downstairs, far too wound up for sleep now.

**[Six]**

Coulson wakes up and realises he has no idea where he is – it's Earth, he can tell, because of the increased gravity, but the wall the bed's facing features an unfamiliar painting.

"Hey Phil." 

The voice is soft, but he's still startled when he hears it, and he rolls his head sideways to see Daisy coming into the room, a tray in her hands. The movement of his head makes him realise that his whole body aches like he's been trampled by a herd of hippos. 

"Where am I?" he asks, his voice grating.

"The Retreat," she tells him, setting the tray down on the nightstand.

"Why?" he wonders. "And how?" He stares at her, baffled by the situation.

"I brought you and Will back through the portal last night," she says, coming to perch on the edge of the bed. "No one else survived the trip back, and the two of you almost didn't make it either. You were lucky that I was able to hold the portal open long enough for May and Bobbi to bring you through."

He frowns up at her, and notices, for the first time, that she's got dark rings under her eyes, and that her skin and hair lack their usual glow. "Are you okay?" he asks worriedly.

"Exhausted," she tells him. "Which is why I'm here – well, why we're both here – Mack decided it was the best place for the two of us to recuperate."

"What about Will?" he asks anxiously. He'd liked the astronaut, even though he'd barely got to know him.

"He's in pretty bad shape, but he's in good hands – Bobbi and Jemma are looking after him. They reckon he'll eventually recover, but it's going to take him weeks. Since you and I only need rest, rather than actual medical care, Mack decided it would be better for us to come here where there are fewer interruptions."

Coulson's about to ask further questions but his stomach growls, and Daisy chuckles softly. "Looks like I arrived with lunch just in the nick of time," she says. "Think you can sit up?"

"I might need help with that," he admits. She nods, carefully grabs both his hands in hers and draws him to sit up, then she wraps her left arm across his back while she piles up the pillows behind him.

"I brought you a grilled cheese and some soup," she tells him. "It's just soup from a can, I'm afraid, and the grilled cheese does not use your oh-so-secret recipe, so it's not as good as yours, but, uh, it's food."

"You made me lunch, Daisy, that's the best bit." She gives him a surprised look, then passes him the grilled cheese first. "Have you eaten?" 

She nods. "I did. I was really hungry and I wasn't sure when you'd wake up, so I went ahead and had mine." She looks a bit embarrassed and he wonders why until she admits, "I ate rather more than I've brought you – Jemma insisted I had to at least double my calorie intake to make up for using my powers so much yesterday."

He swallows a mouthful, then asks, "Were you okay? I mean, when you held the portal open for us to bring Fitz and Simmons through, you were bleeding heavily from your nose, and you needed a lot of sleep afterwards." He keeps his eyes trained on the plate and eats quickly as he abruptly recalls what had happened on Zephyr1 that day. 

"I passed out," she tells him, and he looks up at her immediately, feeling a surge of anxiety, even though it's far too late for that. She squeezes his knee through the bedcovers. "It's okay, Phil, I was only out for twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes?" he repeats, horrified. He realises that he was lucky, in a way, to be unconscious at the time otherwise he'd have been frantic with worry.

"Yeah." 

He finishes the sandwich, and Daisy takes the plate from him, then passes him the bowl of soup. She looks at it, then asks, anxiously, "Is that warm enough?"

He takes a spoonful, then tries not to grimace when he realises the soup is actually only lukewarm.

"Let me," Daisy says, and presses a fingertip to the rim of the bowl.

"Daisy!" he exclaims, pulling the bowl towards his chest and out of her reach. "You're already exhausted, you – "

"Phil," she cuts him off. "Relax, it's not that great a use of my powers. It'd be no more tiring to take it back to the kitchen it and reheat than to do this." She presses her finger to the bowl again and after only a few seconds he can feel the bowl growing warmer in his hands.

"What did you do?" he asks, curiosity overcoming caution.

"Just excited the molecules a bit to warm it up again."

"I had no idea you could do that," he says, and he knows he sounds awed.

She gives a half shrug. "I don't know what I can do, most of the time, not until I try it."

"Like when you saved – " He stops, realising that while Daisy had saved Roz from Lash, she hadn't been able to save her from Ward.

"Roz," Daisy says. She's looking at him with an expression of concern that he feels he doesn't deserve, not after the way he's behaved the last couple of weeks.

He nods, opens his mouth to speak, then realises he'll only cry if he tries.

"It's okay, Phil." She takes the bowl of soup from him, and sets it back on the nightstand, then she clasps his shoulders, looking at him for permission he realises. He nods and she wraps her arms around him. "You're allowed to grieve, you know," she says softly by his ear. "I'm not going to think any less of you, or judge you. I may not have liked the woman, but you obviously saw something in her."

"I – " He stops and swallows down the lump of emotion in his throat, and feels Daisy rubbing circles on his back. "I thought I could make her see the error of her ways," he says, then wonders if that sounds naïve. "Like you did for me."

She pulls back to look at his face, obviously surprised. "Phil. You were already a good man when I met you. A bit of a company man, it's true – but you weren't a bad person. Just very entrenched in SHIELD's ways, still."

"And you helped me see the error of my ways," he says, "made me realise that SHIELD's way wasn't the best way of doing things a lot of the time." She nods, and he says, rather abruptly, "I wasn't very nice to you before, and I'm sorry about that."

"Before?" she asks, looking genuinely puzzled.

"When we flew back from England, after you rescued Simmons."

"Oh." She shakes her head. "It's okay, Phil. I didn't hold it against you."

"You should have," he says, a bit angry at the way she always seems to think her feelings don't matter.

He must sound angry, too, because her eyebrows go up. "Why? It was pretty obvious to me, even though I was upset with you, that you were in a bad place. I'm pretty sure Andrew would have diagnosed depression if he'd had the chance to talk to you. That's why I didn't judge you for starting a relationship with Ms Price, even when I knew you were interested in me."

He gives her a surprised look, and she asks, "What? Did you think I didn't know the two of you were having sex?" She rolls her eyes. "What have I told you about being able to read people's vibrations, Phil?"

"That it allows you to read people's moods," he says.

"Exactly. May wondered why you'd slept with her, you know, but I didn't." 

"She actually talked about it to you?" Coulson asks, completely amazed.

"Yeah, Phil, May talked to me. She was worried about you, too, you know." 

"Why didn't you wonder?"

"Because I figured it was down to low self-esteem. You'd convinced yourself – wrongly, I might add – that you didn't deserve any better than a woman who constantly mocked and belittled you, even though you knew I was interested in you."

He shakes his head, but she grabs his chin in a firm grip so she can look him in the eyes. "Phil, trust me, you deserved better than Rosalind Price. God knows she didn't deserve to be murdered in front of you in the way she was, and she certainly wasn't evil in the way that Ward was, but she was definitely not a nice person. She was hunting my people and locking them away without their consent, so I won't lie and say it didn't hurt that you slept with her."

She leans in and kisses him carefully, and with obvious intent. "You should eat your soup, Phil," she tells him, sitting back. Then she smirks, probably because he's looking at her with a dazed expression. She reaches out for the bowl of soup and does the same warming trick on it as before. "Here."

"Thanks." 

She presses her lips to his forehead, then climbs off the bed. "I promised Jemma I'd let her know when you woke up."

He nods, then concentrates on the soup. He doesn't know what to do with the revelation that Daisy knew he was sleeping with Roz – he thought he'd kept that concealed from everyone. And May knew too, apparently. He wonders, suddenly, if everyone knew, and thought him an idiot for sleeping with the enemy. And he doesn't even have the excuse of not knowing that Roz was the enemy, unlike when May was sleeping with Ward.

He's finished his soup and is trying to decide if he has the energy to get out of bed for a shower when Daisy reappears.

"Okay?"

He nods. "I need a shower."

"Can you manage?" she asks, and he wonders if he's imagining the cautious note in her voice.

"Do I look that feeble?" he asks, trying for humorous.

"To be honest, Phil, you look like a wounded baby deer."

He quirks an eyebrow at her, then sees she's trying not to smile. "Baby deer," he repeats, and she chuckles.

"Okay, maybe not that bad, but I have to say, you've looked better. Last time you looked so rough was after you lost your hand."

He looks down at the prosthetic, swallows, then nods. "I think I can manage," he tells her.

"Well give me a shout if you can't. I'm going to wash up."

"Okay."

AC-S-AC-S-AC

After he showers (without incident) he pulls on his sweats and a t-shirt, but he's not quite ready to get back into bed yet, so he goes through into the main room. Daisy's sitting on the kitchen counter, eating something in a bowl, and he can't help quirking an eyebrow at the sight. She smirks at him as he crosses the room to join her.

"You look a whole lot better, Phil," she tells him.

"Thanks. What are you eating?"

"More canned soup," she tells him. "Chicken noodle soup, actually."

He stops in front of her, and is surprised when she parts her legs, stretches them out, and carefully wraps them around his waist.

"Is this too soon?" she asks, her expression serious. "I need you to tell me if you don't want this, Phil." 

"I want it," he tells her, "I want you."

"But is this too soon?"

He swallows, then shakes his head. "I didn't love Roz, you know. I'm not sure I even liked her very much."

"But you still had sex with her," Daisy observes.

"Yeah. I – " He stops, then leans in and wraps his arms around her, thinking it might be easier to talk to her if he doesn't have to look at her. "She was the first person I'd had sex with since – "

"Losing your hand," Daisy supplies.

He chuckles weakly. "No, since I died."

"Oh Phil." She sounds so sad, he thinks, and he tightens his arms around her a bit more.

"I know," he says. "I'm such a loser."

"Well you're not the only loser around here, you know," she says, and eases back in his arms so she can see his face. "Last person I had sex with was Miles."

"You and Lincoln – " he begins, then stops himself. "Never mind, it's not my business."

"No," she says, apparently unfazed by discussing her sex life with him. "I kissed him when I was trying to persuade him to come in, but that was it. And – well, I'll admit, I thought about it, as a way of punishing you for rejecting me, but Lincoln's the wrong person for me."

"And you think I'm right for you?"

"Yeah, Phil, I do, and if you'll let me, I'll prove that to you."

He looks at her a bit searchingly, but he can't see any pity in her expression, just the usual fierce love that Daisy always has shown him.

"I'd like that," he says quietly.

She smiles at him, her whole face lighting up, and he feels a knot in his chest that he hadn't even been aware was there loosen.

"C'mon then," she says, and pushes him backwards so she can slip down off the counter. Then she grabs his hand, the left one he notices, and leads him into the bedroom.

"Lie down."

He obeys, then watches as she slowly pulls her tank up and off; his mouth goes dry at the sight of Daisy in just her bra, her darker skin contrasting sharply with the pale lilac bra she's wearing. She unbuttons her jeans, then eases them down over her hips before allowing them to slide down her legs. Her panties match her bra, he realises, then he notices that there's a damp spot on the crotch, and he moans softly as his cock begins to stiffen and lengthen.

"D'you like what you see, mister?" she asks, her tone light and teasing.

"Yes," he breathes.

She smirks, probably at the stupidly intense way he's looking at her. She reaches up and unhooks her bra, allowing it to slide down her arms and onto the floor, then she peels her panties down before sauntering (there's no other word for it, he decides) across to the bed. She climbs onto the foot of the bed and crawls up his body, pausing when she reaches his waist. She taps his hip.

"Lift." 

He obeys, and she peels his sweatpants down, and he groans when she licks her lips at the sight of his rigid penis as it bounces free.

"Fuck, Phil," she murmurs, then she leans down and swirls her tongue over the head, which makes him groan loudly.

"Daisy, please."

She smirks at him again, then tosses his sweats onto the floor, before she grabs the hem of his t-shirt. "Okay?" she asks, her expression suddenly tender.

"Yeah." He lifts his arms, and she peels the shirt up his torso, then over her arms, before tossing it after his sweats.

"Fuck, Phil." This time her tone is shocked rather than admiring, and she stares at his scar for a minute or so before she reaches out as if she's going to touch it, but her hand stops just above. 

He curls his robot hand carefully around her wrist, then lowers her hand to his chest. "It's okay, Daisy," he says softly.

She swallows, and he can see a sheen of moisture in her eyes, then she cautiously draws the tip of her index down the length of the raised, puckered flesh. He's startled, but not disgusted, when she follows her finger with her mouth, kissing her way down it. He can't help contrasting Daisy's reaction to Roz's – she'd stared at it with obvious distaste, then asked him if he minded putting his shirt back on.

"Are you okay?" Daisy asks, lifting her head and staring down at him with a worried expression.

He nods, and she reaches out to cup his cheek, brushing her thumb over the corner of his mouth. He immediately opens his mouth and licks at her thumb, and she moans, then pushes her thumb into his mouth, which makes Coulson moan too.

Daisy lowers her body down, and he groans very loudly when her sex settles on his cock – he can feel that she's hot and wet, and he suddenly finds himself desperate to be inside her.

"Did you – are there – " He closes his eyes and swallows, then asks, "Condoms?"

"Yeah, Phil, I brought some." 

His eyes snap open and he watches in relief as she leans sideways, tugs open the drawer of the nightstand, and brings out a box of condoms.

She slides backwards a bit and he swears at the sensations that shoot through his cock and lodge in his balls, then her hand is on him, and he groans in a different way as she sheathes his dick in latex.

"Are you okay with me on top?"

"God, yes," he gasps, and she smirks a bit, then guides his prick into her slick heat. He's not sure how he doesn't either come instantly, or simply self-combust. He grabs her hip with his right hand, and she immediately reaches down to grab his left hand and brings it up to hold her right hip.

"You don't have to worry about touching me with it," she tells him. "It's a part of you, just like my powers are part of me."

He nods, feeling a lump of emotion in his throat, then carefully tightens his grasp on her hip. She nods at him, then leans down to kiss him, easily slipping her tongue past his lips, even as she begins to move.

"Daisy," he groans, overwhelmed by sensation.

"Phil." Her voice is soft, and she moves slowly over him, her gaze fixed on his face. She leans forward to set her hands on his shoulders and he groans at the change in angle. "I love you, you know."

"Yeah." He realises that he doesn't sound very convinced, even to himself, and he bites his lip.

"Phil." She stops moving, staring down at him. "I'm serious. I love you. I've loved you for a long time, maybe ever since you gave me a ride in your shiny flying car. I didn't admit it for ages, and even then I never thought this – " She gestures at their nakedness. "would be possible, but I've loved you all this time. I know I'm not a Roz, or even an Audrey, elegant and sophisticated – " She laughs, self-consciously, he thinks. "I'm more comfortable in a tank and jeans than a killer lady suit or a long sweeping dress, but I still think I'd be good for you, if you'll let me."

He curls his hand behind her head and pulls her down to kiss her, putting all of his feelings into the kiss since, for the moment, he can't speak. She moans into his mouth, then squeezes her muscles around his cock, and he moans back, more loudly. She begins to move again, rocking gently as they continue to kiss, and when they have to pause to catch their breath, she straightens up, then moves faster, and Coulson begins to move too, thrusting upwards, his hands gripping her hips.

"Yeah, Phil," she mutters, pushing herself down as he pushes up, and he can feel the tell-tale tightening in his balls that signals an impending orgasm.

"Daisy," he groans, and she chuckles, grinding down harder, then she drops her right hand down between their bodies and he gasps as he feels the air over her clit and his cock beginning to vibrate. "Oh fuck!" He starts to come, clutching her hips more tightly, and he's grateful and relieved when he feels her muscles tighten around his cock as she comes too.

She slumps down over him afterwards, and he wraps his arms around her, pressing his mouth to her neck.

"You okay, Phil?" she asks softly, and he realises he's crying. 

"Yeah," he says firmly.

"Good." She slips her arms under his body and rolls them so she's on her back. She kisses him, gently at first, then more hungrily, and he groans into her mouth.

"Daisy, you forget, I'm a much older man. I'll need longer to recover than your other lovers."

She chuckles into his mouth, and he gives her a surprised look. "Relax, Phil, I'm not trying to get you ready for round 2 already. I'm just kissing you." She slides her right hand down his back, to squeeze his ass, and he groans again.

"You sure about that?" he asks.

She laughs properly. "Yeah, Phil, I'm sure. I just wanted to get my hands on your fine, fine ass."

That startles a laugh out of him, and he can't resist flexing his ass under her hand. "It's not bad, is it?" he asks smugly.

"It's a mighty fine ass," she tells him, and squeezes again.

He's a bit startled when he realises that he wants her to finger him sometime.

"Oh you like that, don't you?" she says, teasingly.

He lifts his head to look at her and she pulls her hand away from his ass, then pushes her index and middle fingers into his mouth. He gets the idea and immediately wraps his tongue over her fingers, coating them in as much saliva as he can. She pulls her fingers free, then rubs them around his asshole, before slipping the middle one inside him.

"Oh fuck, Daisy," he groans. He can feel himself growing hard again, and she tightens her inner muscles around him even as she fingers him. 

"Think I could get you off just by fingering you?" she asks, sounding intrigued by the idea.

"Probably," he says, then groans again. "Daisy, condom."

"Oh yeah, sorry." 

He can't help whimpering a bit when she eases her finger free, then helps him lift himself up so she can get the used condom off him, then put a fresh one on. He holds himself over her, his whole body trembling with want, then sinks back down once she's got his cock safely sheathed again.

"You okay?" she asks, massaging one buttock.

"Yeah, just – can we keep going?"

She curls her left hand around the back of his neck and pulls him down into a deep kiss, and he moans when he feels her finger slip back into him.

"Daisy."

"It's okay, Phil, I've got you."

She encourages him to begin moving, and he begins, slowly at first, then faster as desire uncoils hotly in his belly and balls.

It doesn't take long for him to come again, and he worries that Daisy's being left out, but she's not that far behind him after all. She pulls his body down to rest over hers while they both catch their breath, then she eases him onto his side, taking care of the condom, before going into the bathroom.

"How are you feeling now?" she asks when she returns.

"Like I could sleep for a month," he admits.

She smirks at him, then snuggles up behind him, spooning him, and he wraps his arms over hers.

"You don't have to keep this on, if you'd be more comfortable without it," she tells him, curling her fingers over his left wrist.

"I – " He finds he doesn't know what to say. He's not in the habit of sleeping in the prosthetic, but he can't forget Roz had recoiled from the idea of him taking it off. Then he reminds himself that Daisy is not Roz, is, in fact, her complete opposite. "I usually do take it off," he tells her, and lets her roll him onto his back again. She kneels on the bed beside him, watching intently as he unscrews his arm and unplugs it, then she takes it from him with a care that borders on reverence, and climbs off the bed to set it in its case.

"There should be a tube of cream in my toiletries bag," he tells her, and she delves into the black bag, then lifts out the cream and brings it over to the bed without being asked. He pushes himself up so his back's against the pillows, and Daisy unscrews the cap, then hands him the tube, before watching intently as he slathers the stuff on all around his stump.

"Does it hurt?" she asks softly. "Putting the prosthetic on, taking it off?"

He shakes his head. "Not really, but the stump aches at the end of the day, especially if I've left the thing on for any length of time."

"Like when you've been trapped on an alien planet with a bunch of HYDRA assholes?" she suggests.

He chuckles. "Yeah."

"What helps?" she asks, and he shrugs a bit. "No, Phil, seriously – what helps it to ache less?"

"Massaging it," he tells her, "but you don't have to – " 

She cuts him off as her right hand curls around his upper arm. "I used to do this for Bobbi, you know – massage her leg, I mean."

"You did?" He's surprised that he had no idea.

"Yeah. I've always been good with my hands Phil, you should know that." She smirks cheekily at him, and he's startled into laughter.

"And now you're even better," he suggests.

Her hands still and she gives him an intent look. "I could ease your arm even more with my powers," she tells him. "But not if you don't – "

"I do," he says, cutting her off in his eagerness.

That earns him another smirk, then she gently curls her left hand around his stump, holding his arm steady, while her right hand hovers just above his skin, and he gasps slightly when she begins vibrating the air over his arm. The vibrations seem to penetrate deep into his flesh and bones, and he mutters, "Oh god, Daisy" because it feels good. He can feel his muscles unknotting themselves, and his arm goes floppy.

She lifts her right hand away, then carefully lowers his arm to rest across his belly. "Okay?"

"That was amazing," he tells her, and he suspects he has the worst case of hearts in his eyes right now.

She leans in and briefly presses her mouth to his, then helps him to lie back down on the bed, curling her body around his, even as she carefully cradles his foreshortened arm in her very powerful arms.

"Go to sleep, Phil," she tells him.

"Yeah," he mumbles. He can feel himself sinking towards sleep already, and he sighs softly, completely content.


End file.
